


Resistance is Futile

by Fire_Bear



Series: FrUK Spring Festival 2017 [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Cyborgs, Day 4, First Kiss, FrUKSpringFestival2k17, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Star Trek AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 01:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10888656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: The U.S.S Soleil has been severely damaged by the Borg who is urging them to surrender. With 24 hours until the Borg demands an answer, Dr. Arthur Kirkland wants to work in order to forget their fate. But the communications officer, Francis Bonnefoy has a different idea of what they should do with the time given to them...





	Resistance is Futile

**Author's Note:**

> Like I’ve said before, I really wanted to do both themes for each day - even if I couldn’t somehow merge them.
> 
> But this one… sheesh. I wanted to have both cyborg!Francis and robot!Arthur but it was kinda difficult for me to do that, for some reason. I mean, everything I started made no sense so I kept stopping and starting again.
> 
> Now, there’s no robot, just cyborgs and an android - and they don’t feature very heavily so… sorry. ^^”

"Captain..." said Dr. Arthur Kirkland, slowly. "Is that... Is that what I think it is?"

He could hear his captain gulp. "Yes, I think it is," Captain Alfred F. Jones confirmed.

Spirits sinking, Arthur turned back to look at the display which showed the intimidating Cube slowly moving to intercept them. He didn't want to think of all the injuries he'd have to treat in the ensuing battle. And he certainly didn't want to think of having to fight assimilated crewmates.

The Borg had arrived.

"Francis," Alfred said, quietly.

"I've already sent a distress signal," Francis replied, equally quiet. His voice sounded flat and Arthur's heart clenched at the dismay he could hear within it. Biting his lip, he cast a quick glance in the communication officer's direction to find him gazing back at him. Arthur quickly returned his attention to the display.

"What are they waiting for?" he demanded, as if Alfred would have any of the answers.

"I believe they are maneuvering into a better position to stop us from leaving if we get the chance to repair our warp drive," Honda posited, his hands flying over the console.

"Don't think that's gonna happen, Cap'n," came Gilbert's voice from the comms. "That last blast took out part of the dilithium chamber and a couple of our crystals. Even if I _could_ rebuild the chamber in time-" He paused for a moment, everyone on the brig stilling at the implications. "Even if I could, we're gonna be down a crystal. I'm not sure how far we could warp."

"Do your best, Gil," said Alfred.

"What do we do, Captain?" asked Matthew from his spot in the co-pilot's seat. He looked terrified, more so than usual.

Alfred looked around at them all. Arthur fervently hoped there would be a solution in that bizarre brain of his. But, when they caught each other's gazes, all Arthur could see was defeat, something he didn't like seeing on the captain. When Alfred still didn't answer the question, stalling for time, Arthur folded his arms.

"We fight, right? That's all we can do."

"The Borg King could be there," Honda pointed out.

"It's not stopped us before."

"We could always run before," Francis piped up.

Arthur shot a glare at him. "Well, I'm not going to stand around here talking about it. I have people to see to in the medical bay. Let me know if you're going to roll over for the King, won't you?" he added sarcastically as he stalked from the brig.

* * *

Word soon spread that the Borg was giving the U.S.S. Soleil 24 hours in order to surrender and be assimilated. As they often said, resistance was futile. The captain had retired to his quarters in order to think on what to do. Everyone else had been asked to operate as normal while all the engineers worked double-time in order to fix the dilithium chamber in the hope that it would do them some good.

Of course, after being fired upon, there were plenty of people clogging up Arthur's medical bay. He had set the most junior of his staff to dealing with the minor ones, such as scrapes and sprains. Everyone else had to reset broken bones and treat others for concussions. Arthur, meanwhile, had taken on the biggest responsibility and was scurrying from patient to patient, intent on saving all those that had been closest to the large explosions which had rocked the ship.

There was a whole section of the medical by which was given over to the dead.

Thankfully, all those Arthur treated within the first few hours of the attack survived. Everyone with lesser injuries were sent to their quarters to rest. Arthur continued working, of course, trying not to think about what was beyond the hull of the ship. Reports had to be sent. More people had to be seen to. Some of the people who he had stabilised worsened and he had to bring them back from the brink of death. The shift changed and he had to inform the newcomers of the situation with their patients.

Twelve hours after the attack, everything suddenly seemed to still and he was left looking for something to do. Pacing through the bay, he glared at his doctors' efforts, willing the people to get better faster. He had the feeling they'd be needing them eventually. And, if they were still there when the Borg inevitably came, they would be the first to be assimilated. Arthur didn't want to think about the possibility of shooting down his own patients.

That was when Francis appeared.

"You're still here?" he asked as he strode towards him.

Raising an eyebrow, Arthur folded his arms before glancing back at the patient he had been looking over. "You expected someone else?"

"Of course not," Francis agreed, shaking his head in exasperation. "You're going to work yourself into exhaustion."

"That's the idea."

Francis glanced around at the milling doctors and the slumbering victims. "I was hoping to speak to you. Alone."

"My office is open," Arthur told him, turning to walk towards it.

He was stopped by Francis grabbing his elbow. "People can  _see_ in," he said.

Arthur tensed. They'd had a similar conversation before – he hadn't expected Francis to do this  _now_ . But... There was something in his voice which made it hard for Arthur to refuse. What would be the harm in indulging him in some  _conversation_ ? Arthur wondered, especially since they wouldn't have much more time to do so.

Reluctantly, he shrugged out of his doctor's coat. "Fine," he said, shortly. "We can go to my quarters. I should probably rest for an hour or so."

* * *

His quarters were a little sparse, now that he watched Francis looking around with interest. There were a few pictures of his family on the table and his bed was made. That was all there was, really, as he tended to work until he was almost jabbing  _himself_ in the arm with the syringe before dragging himself to his bed and collapsing into it.

He turned to Francis once the door was closed and the officer stepped into his space, raising a hand to cup Arthur's cheek. Arthur quickly caught his wrist. "Stop. This is not the time, Francis."

"It is," Francis insisted, pressing closer. He was suddenly much closer than he'd ever been before. "I... I don't want to- without saying it."

"Francis," said Arthur, warningly. "We can't."

"Why not?" Francis demanded. "Arthur, I love y-"

"Stop, please," Arthur begged, letting Francis's wrist slip from his grasp and stepping away from him. "I don't-" He broke off, aware that he was beginning to get upset. They had been dancing around each other for a couple of years as Francis flirted with Arthur and he attempted to deflect his attentions. Lately, he had been finding it harder to ignore his suggestive comments and attention, his own gaze constantly searching for him. But now, at the end of everything, he didn't want to hear those words when he knew he wouldn't be able to be happy with them. Or that he wouldn't be able to say it back with confidence...

Undeterred, Francis grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him back towards him. "You don't need to fight it," he said, gently. When he caught Arthur's eye, Arthur realised that there was something he had left unsaid:  _You don't need to say it_ .

That broke his resistance and Arthur let himself fall into Francis's arms. Francis's arms wrapped tight around his waist and Arthur slid his arms around Francis's shoulders, resting his forehead on Francis's chest. They held each other, at the edge of the universe and the end of their time together. After a few moments, Francis pulled back a little and gently nudged Arthur to stand straighter. Arthur didn't question it and did so, letting Francis tilt his head upwards.

And then they were kissing, soft and gentle, sweet little presses of lips against lips. Arthur slipped his arms up so that he had them looped around Francis's neck and a hand in Francis's hair, twisting the strands around a finger. That seemed to be a signal for Francis who flicked his tongue out and along Arthur's lower lip. Humming in response, Arthur gave in and opened his mouth. Francis took advantage of the movement immediately, his tongue plunging into Arthur's mouth to coax out Arthur's and deepen the kiss.

Pulling Arthur closer – as if he could possibly be any closer – Francis rubbed against him and Arthur noticed, suddenly, that they were both half-hard. He hadn't realised, so caught up in the kiss as he had been. Moaning open-mouthed into the kiss, Arthur tried to pull Francis against him again, eager for friction and the feel of Francis's length through their clothes. Francis obliged him, bucking slightly with light rolls of his hips. Arthur moaned again and Francis pulled back, leaving Arthur searching for contact.

"I should have kissed you years ago," Francis murmured. He sounded sensual and smug but Arthur could see his chest heaving, see his dilated eyes, and he knew that Francis was just as affected as he was.

"Yes," he breathed, smiling when Francis looked shocked. Then he took hold of both of Francis's hands and dragged him towards his bed, eager to be close to him again, eager to forget about the patients under his care and the captain's decision and the warp engine and the Cube outside.

When they reached the bed, Arthur let himself fall backwards onto it, pulling Francis down on top of him. Before Francis could reorient himself, Arthur pulled his face down into another deep kiss, this one led by him, slow and sensual. Francis hummed in approval and responded with vigor, almost seeming to want to delve deeper within Arthur.

The kissing was making Arthur want more, yearning for friction once again. So he decided to boldly go where he had never gone before and slid his hands gently down Francis's body till he gripped his arse. He pulled Francis down with his grip there, pushing his own hips up to grind against him and pulling a moan from Francis as he lost Francis's lips and panted, pleased.

Dipping down, Francis tugged Arthur's lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it a moment before fully pulling away and pushing himself to his knees as he straddled Arthur. "Top or bottom?" he asked as he stuck his fingers in the too small pockets of his trousers that made up their uniform.

Arthur shuddered at the question. Two images raced through his head: Francis, still straddling Arthur, riding him with abandon, his tight heat squeezing around Arthur's dick; his legs hooked on Francis's shoulders as Francis drove deep within him, filling him up, closer than ever, connected to him. His cock twitched at the thought of either of them, making him groan and buck his hips a little, brushing against Francis's leg. "Bottom," he told Francis, rather breathlessly.

"Oh, Arthur you won't regret that," said Francis with a grin. He leaned down to press a kiss to Arthur's jaw. "I'll make you feel really good. I'll make sure to take it  _slow_ ."

Even the word, said like that, made Arthur shudder again, anticipation making him shift with impatience. He needed friction, he needed Francis inside him, he  _needed_ . "Dammit, Francis," he tried to snap, panting. "Just  _hurry up_ ."

Chuckling, Francis finally found what he was looking for in his pocket and pulled it out. He dropped it to the bed and said, "With pleasure." As Francis reached to unbutton Arthur's shirt, Arthur, curious as to what the item had been, pushed himself up on his elbows to look. When he spotted the small bottle of lube sitting innocently beside a small square packet, he looked up at Francis and raised an eyebrow.

"You were just carrying that around with you?" he asked, incredulously. Francis made a face, somewhere between sheepish and as if he thought it would be obvious. "Well, aren't you optimistic," Arthur drawled with a teasing smirk.

Francis rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up. You would have done the same."

"Actually, I would have assumed you had some in your quarters, considering."

They both paused at the memories of their previous sexual partners. Arthur remembered the pain he had felt and forced himself to suppress when he had seen Francis dragging various members of the crew towards his quarters after he had been flirting with Arthur. He remembered the anger that had shot through him when Francis disappeared while they were on an alien planet with pretty humanoid aliens willing to go to bed with him. And he remembered the smug righteousness and subsequent guilt when Francis had almost gotten himself killed when he'd had sex with some bigendered alien which fed off of sexual energy.

Not that Arthur had been much better when he'd chosen his partners, most of them people Francis worked with or were friends with. In fact, he'd been with half of the officers on the crew. And he hadn't stopped himself from following a beautiful woman he'd connected with on another planet, that one just as dangerous as Francis's encounter.

It hurt to think of how much pain they had caused each other.

When Francis kissed him again, it was slower than before and far more loving. Arthur sighed into it, happy to have at least had the chance to be this intimate with him. Slowly, the kiss deepened, easing from soft and gentle into a hot and hungry kiss, the kind which made Arthur seek more of Francis. His hands found their way to Francis's shirt and he began to help him remove it, the red bright against the simply coloured room. Arthur was sure he would blend into the room but Francis was as brilliant as the nearest star.

Once they had pulled away and tugged the shirts from each other, Francis worked open Arthur's belt. Arthur tried to return the favour but Francis was quick to swat his hands away. Pouting a little, Arthur let his hands fall to Francis's chest, sliding them along the muscles there and through the hair. Arthur felt a stab of envy when he saw how thick it was compared to the light fluff he seemed to have.

"Lift your hips," Francis murmured and Arthur dropped his hands to obey. With one swift movement, Francis pulled both Arthur's trousers and his underwear from him, letting his impatient cock hit cool air. Arthur bit his lip at the sensation and once again tried to help Francis with his own trousers.

Before he could so much as brush against the belt buckle, Francis took him in hand and he stilled, sucking in a breath. As if he had also been thinking of their time limit, Francis began to quickly stroke him, making him gasp and squirm, clinging to the covers so he wouldn't float away in bliss. Somehow, Francis knew just when to thumb at his slit, spreading pre-cum along his shaft as he made twisting strokes, squeezing almost enough to hurt but more than enough to make Arthur start thrusting into that friction.

"Ah," Francis said with a sad little sigh. Somehow, the sigh sounded like he was teasing Arthur and the doctor groaned in response. "If only we had a cock ring," Francis continued, smirking down at him.

Arthur groaned once again at the thought of slowly easing into sex, unable to come even when he reached his limit. He was sure he would have been driven mad if Francis's desire could be realised. "God, Francis," he said. "Please." He was unable to say any more as Francis gave him an extra-tight squeeze and he cried out with pleasure.

"Move back a little," Francis murmured, releasing Arthur as he sat back on his heels. Arthur bit back a whimper at the loss of his touch and it came out as a low whine. Nevertheless, Arthur did as he was told, grabbing a pillow to place under the small of his back. Meanwhile, Francis opened the bottle (with straining muscles and a grimace which made Arthur smile) and poured a liberal amount on his fingers, quickly rubbing them together as he set aside the bottle. Glancing up, Francis met Arthur's eyes, one eyebrow raised in question. In answer, Arthur spread his legs, lifting his hips a little so that Francis could see his entrance.

Almost immediately, Arthur felt fingers brush him there, his muscles twitching in anticipation. Francis brushed around his rim, teasing him as he braced himself and Arthur's hands gripped his sheets all the tighter. "Francis," he growled after a few moments of this. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" asked Francis innocently – and promptly thrust a finger into Arthur.

Shouting out, Arthur tensed up, breathing heavily as he arched off the bed. "F-Francis!" he exclaimed, scrabbling at his sheets. He wanted Francis to put more in him, wanted to pull him further in: he wanted Francis to pull away, to let him breathe. Once Arthur lowered himself back down, his hole twitching rapidly, they both stayed still, Arthur's head swimming with pleasure. Eventually, Arthur felt calmer, relaxing further into his bed. "Francis," he groaned, looking up at him.

The communications officer gazed back, his expression a little dazed. His cheeks were flushed and strands of his hair were hanging at the sides of his face, limp from his sweat which glistened on his skin. As he stared at Arthur, his chest rose and fell rapidly and he licked his lips. Had seeing Arthur react as he had turned Francis on further? Arthur took a chance to glance downwards, spotting the large tent in Francis's trousers. He needed to help Francis, he thought, and reached for him.

That was when Francis drew his finger slowly out of Arthur until it reached the first knuckle. Arthur made a noise which was both made in pleasure and a feeling of loss. Francis was quick to push it back in, curling his finger slightly. Groaning, Arthur let his head fall back, already searching for more as he tried to move in sync with Francis. As if he knew what Arthur wanted, Francis began to thrust his finger in and out of him, sliding quicker and quicker. Arthur could feel himself opening up to Francis and let out another pleased sound as Francis slipped in another finger.

"You're so tight," Francis told him, voice husky and low. Arthur moaned at the sound of it, trying to buck himself back onto Francis's fingers. "And so eager," Francis purred, scissoring his fingers now.

All of the sensations within him made Arthur reach for Francis, grabbing hold of his shoulders and digging his nails into him. Francis groaned at that, dipping down to capture Arthur's lips in a kiss. Eagerly reciprocating, Arthur let his hands slip around Francis's neck so he could tangle his fingers in Francis's hair, uncaring of the sweat gathering there. Francis's free hand gripped Arthur's waist, tight enough to leave bruises later, as he slowly pushed in yet another finger, twisting his hand as it entered Arthur. In response, Arthur moaned into the kiss and bit at Francis's lip.

As Francis continued to thrust in and out, occasionally twisting and prodding as he searched for that one spot, he pulled away from Arthur's mouth and began to kiss along Arthur's jaw instead. Arthur wrapped his arms around Francis's shoulders and held him close, panting into his ear. Then Francis shifted down, kissing his way down Arthur's neck to his collarbone and back up, biting him every so often to leave his mark. Groaning, Arthur's hands found Francis's shoulder and his hair, tugging at it lightly. Francis's answering moan hummed against Arthur's chest, making him gasp.

Just as Francis began to kiss his way down towards Arthur's nipples, his fingers brushed against Arthur's prostate. Gasping louder, Arthur arched into Francis, bringing a nipple against Francis's questing lips. "Aha," Francis murmured against him, lips continuing to brush against Arthur's hardening nub, "I've found it." And he bit down on Arthur's nipple, rolling it around his mouth with his tongue.

"Yes," Arthur hissed in answer, body bucking up and down as he tried to chase both Francis's lips and his fingers. "Fran-" he groaned, cutting off as Francis pushed his fingers firmly against his prostate. "Ah, _more_!" Both his hands found their way to Francis's hair and pulled, eliciting a response from Francis in a moan around his nipple. Francis bit down again, making Arthur shout in surprise and pleasure, before sitting up again.

"Are you ready?" Francis asked, gently. Arthur blinked up at him, forcing his eyes to focus for a moment. Francis seemed as undone as Arthur felt. But his gaze was steady, intent. If Arthur decided to back out now, he had no doubt Francis would let him.

Instead, he said, " _Yes_. Hurry-! _Please_." He reached for Francis again, unsure what he was trying to do.

Chuckling, Francis removed his fingers, smirking a little when he heard Arthur's small whine at the loss. Arthur ignored him, his body seeking something to fill him again, seeking friction, as he shifted below Francis. His hands were clenched tightly in the sheets, the only reason he hadn't reached down to bring himself to orgasm in his impatience.

But he didn't have long to wait. Francis shuffled backwards and began to divest himself of the rest of his clothes. Seemingly aware of how desperate Arthur was for contact, he stopped every few moments to stroke Arthur's cock or push a finger partway into him. It made Arthur squirm more, breathless. Finally, Francis was bare, save for the condom he ripped from a packet and rolled onto him: Arthur attempted to have a look at what he was about to have shoved inside him but Francis dipped down for another bruising kiss. Then, without warning, Francis grabbed Arthur's legs at his knees, pushing them apart. He swiftly lined himself up and carefully pushed against Arthur's entrance. Arthur gasped at the feeling, realising that Francis was far bigger than he had thought.

Ever so carefully, Francis slowly pushed in. The burn as Arthur was stretched once again made him cry out, in pain more than pleasure. Realising this, Francis leaned over and began to whisper encouragements, pressing kisses across Arthur's face. It helped Arthur to relax a little more, accepting Francis within him as he pushed all the way to his hilt. Arthur was gasping when Francis finally stopped moving, tears in his eyes as he stared up at his partner. Francis returned the gaze: he was red-faced and sweaty, eyes dark as he breathed heavily.

"So tight," he rumbled, his voice so deep he could almost be growling possessively.

"So..." Arthur panted. "So big."

Francis grinned smugly at him and leaned down for another kiss. It made Arthur relax further into his bed, feeling complete and full and at peace. If he died now, Arthur reasoned, he would die happy.

Yet, Francis was not content to stay still. Slowly, he pulled out till only his tip remained. It drew a whine from Arthur that he tried to stop, unsuccessfully. Francis bit his lip hard when he heard it – and pushed back in, just as slowly. Arthur groaned into their kiss, realising that Francis was intent on drawing this out for as long as possible.

Sure enough, several minutes passed where Francis languidly thrust in and out of Arthur. He didn't even brush against Arthur's sweet spot. At first, Arthur felt loose as he did so, happy to ride it out. Then, over time, he tensed up, his body feeling as though it needed more, anticipated more pleasure that Francis was depriving him of. With his brain pretty much mush, Arthur whimpered, clutching his sheets tightly. He tried to push himself back onto Francis's dick with each thrust, tried to drive him in deeper.

"If you want more, just say so, my darling love," Francis murmured. Arthur only whimpered louder which made Francis chuckle again. Then, without warning, he grabbed Arthur's legs and hooked his knees over Francis's shoulders. The new angle made Francis slide in deeper and Arthur groaned at that. Francis moved the pillow aside, throwing it off the bed and pulled out of Arthur, steadying him with his hands on Arthur's hips. Biting his lip, Arthur met Francis's gaze – and he thrust in, hard and deep.

Arthur cried out and arched upwards, only staying in contact with the bed by his hands and shoulders, his head thrown back so he could shout to the room. Francis didn't let him get a breath: he began to thrust in and out much faster. It was as if Francis couldn't stop himself and Arthur was content to let him, hanging on for dear life.

Suddenly, Francis shifted and, as he thrust in once more, he brushed against Arthur's prostate. Arthur felt it as a long press against him and he screamed as it did so. Once again, Francis shifted as he pulled out, brushing against it once more. It elicted the same reaction from Arthur who wriggled, trying to pull Francis back towards him. Then Francis thrust in and hit the spot directly; Arthur's scream became silent as his body arched.

When Francis leaned down, jostling them, Arthur wasn't sure what was happening, the pleasure was that intense. "Are you ready to come?" he whispered into Arthur's ear, sounding strained.

With all the pleasure spreading through him, Arthur hadn't been keeping track but, now that he was asked, he nodded frantically. There was a pressure in his belly and his cock was twitching with every thrust. He was flushed and far too warm but it felt _so good_. So he managed to say something which sounded like 'More!'.

And Francis obliged. His hand was suddenly around Arthur's dick, stroking him. Arthur tried to thrust into it even as he tried to buck back and draw Francis in further. Francis thrust in little movements as he worked Arthur closer, brushing his prostate every time. It was too much. With another cry – almost a scream – Arthur came, his cum hitting his stomach and chest as well as covering Francis's hand.

Francis didn't seem to care about the mess he was in, only moving his hand to grip Arthur's hip and keep him steady as he returned to long, slow thrusts. It made Arthur groan again as he sank into the bed as much as he could, boneless and floating. Eventually, his thrusts began to get faster and he wasn't long in coming as well, the heat a welcome spot within Arthur until Francis finished and pulled out. He tugged off the condom and threw it aside. Arthur couldn't find it in him to complain about his carelessness for the moment as Francis sank into the bed beside him, drawing Arthur into his arms.

They lay there, panting. Arthur felt content, as if he had fulfilled his purpose in life. Francis shifted and Arthur ended up half-laying on top of him, his hands pressed firmly against his chest and his head resting over Francis's heart. He listened as Francis calmed down, counting the beats. Finally, it returned to a normal rate and Arthur turned his head to press a kiss to it.

"Thank you," Francis murmured, his voice lazy and thick with exhaustion.

"Mm," said Arthur. After a moment, unsure if Francis was still awake or not, he added, "I love you, too."

There was no response but Arthur was glad for it and let himself relax, soon falling asleep.

* * *

"Have you come to the conclusion that you should surrender?" asked the Borg King, a tall, intimidating specimen with a creepy grin.

The main officers were crowded in the brig, all of them watching the exchange between their captain and the Borg King. Even Gilbert was there, his hand on Matthew's shoulder. Natalya, the chief of security, was sticking close to Alfred's chair as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped. Arthur even found himself hovering beside Francis whose fingers brushed his.

"I cannot, in good conscience, give you command of this ship," Alfred told the King. "I cannot surrender it."

"Then you have brought about your own destruction," the Borg King said.

"Wait!" Alfred cried, springing to his feet. "My crew... Let them go. There are escape pods-"

"Why would I do that?" asked the Borg King, looking genuinely curious.

"I will surrender myself to you instead," Alfred told him, causing everyone's heads to whip around to stare at him. "But you must promise to let them all go in exchange."

The Borg King stared at the captain for a moment. "No," he said, slowly. "I want you _and_ your officers."

A shudder ran down Arthur's spine and Francis's fingers finally grabbed hold of his, clasping his hand in a light hold. All of the people here would have to beam over to them if that was the case. And what they would do with them once they'd gotten their hands on them...

"No," said Alfred, firmly. "It's only me or nothing."

"Then I shall take nothing," the Borg King said, tilting his head in amusement. "After all, I could take you all into the Collective if I destroy your ship." And, with that, the Borg King's face disappeared as it cut his communication. The Cube replaced his face, looming threateningly.

Biting his lip, Alfred turned to Natalya. "Get everyone to the escape pods."

"What's the point?" Gilbert demanded. "As soon as we get clear of the ship, they'll just-"

Their situation was hopeless and Arthur glanced at Francis. He felt far worse when he realised that he would lose the one he loved despite only just finding him. Squeezing Francis's hand, he leaned into him and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

At least, he thought, he would be able to die with him, together at the end.

**Author's Note:**

> And then the U.S.S. Enterprise swooped in and Jean-Luc Picard saved their arses! \^^/
> 
> But Arthur and Francis still had relationship issues because no-one every seemed to have a happy relationship on those ships, as far as I remember.


End file.
